Morning Sickness
by GraeLiars
Summary: Six wakes up achy and covered in suspicious 'bruises', with no memory of the Providence New Year party the night before. He is unimpressed to say the least.  "Dead.  Someone was going to be dead in the next 20 seconds."  Holix


_Hello all! _

_Happy New Year! What better way to welcome in 2012 than with some good old fashioned Holix goodness inspired by the holiday itself. I know things are a bit OCC, but thats what happens when people drink copious amounts of alcoholic beverages...at least thats what my sources tell me ;) Not too happy with the end, but I just wanted to get this out there._

__Hope you all enjoy and, as always, review please!__

Disclaimer: _I do not own these fantastic characters. If I did then this would have happened in the tv show already :)_

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><p><strong>Morning Sickness<strong>

Six felt strange.

He felt nauseas. And _achy. _

Six was not unfamiliar with waking up with headaches; after years of tough fights and brutal injuries, rising in the morning to pain stinging his body and aches in places he didn't even know existed was mandatory. He could even handle the occasional bout of nausea from particularly severe wounds, although he had trained himself to pretty much repress that normal bodily function just about as much as he had forced himself to stop conveying emotions. He prided himself on how well he was able to shut down both of those particularly pesky humanistic reactions.

But this ache was different. And the nausea was different. It was strangely familiar, yet so very, very foreign. It was like a very distant memory lost somewhere in the abyss of his past that he tried so desperately to lock out.

Suddenly realising his throat and mouth were incredibly dry, Six swallowed only to be hit by the culprit of this whole _achy_ situation.

The familiar, malty tang of stale alcohol washed down his throat, mixing with his saliva and coating the walls of his esophagus thickly. He let out a disgruntled groan as he realized what had apparently happened, for that familiar and disgusting taste was the unmistakable taste of the infamous 'Night Before'. Which, coincidently, he was failing to remember the bulk of. He attempted to piece together what little fragments of last night his mind had retained to try and form some sort of answer as to why he felt this way.

It was a function that Rex had somehow convinced Holiday who had somehow convinced Six, who had somehow convinced White Knight to let them have. Something about a new year or something. He didn't care. All he cared about was that Six knew he hadn't planned on drinking. Which meant someone had spiked his drink.

It was there and then that Six made a plan for the day ahead:

Step 1 – Locate Katanas

Step 2 – Find whoever was responsible for making him feel this way.

Step 3 – Kill them with Katanas.

It was a simple plan that he was very keen to put into action.

Just as soon as he could make his way out of bed.

It was when he tried to turn over that he realized by the rustling of his shirt that he was still partially dressed. He had managed to somehow take off his shoes, one sock, and his jacket. He had also succeeded in unbuttoning his shirt and undoing his belt. But that was as far as he'd gotten.

Man, it must have been one big night.

Oh yes, the person responsible was going to die. _Slowly._

Six managed to swing his legs out over the bed and sit up, trying to ignore the intense throbbing in his head caused by the action. He groaned as he tried to build up the strength the push himself off the bed and into a standing position. He took a deep intake of breath through his nose and another strange sensation ran through his entire system. It was similar to the taste in his mouth in the way that it was strangely familiar, though somewhat unknown, and he couldn't seem to place it. He also noted that it was much sweeter than any alcohol he ever knew, and therefore, could not be directly linked to the fowl taste in his mouth. Too tired and achy to bother about it right now, Six dismissed the scent and simply let it linger pleasantly in his room and nose.

Now that he concentrated on scent, he could smell something else – himself. He was sweaty. Really sweaty, especially considering it was supposed to be winter. Six decided that he was going to revise his plan slightly. In his head it now read:

Step 1 – Have a shower

Step 2 – Locate Katanas.

Step 3 – Find person responsible for making him feel this way

Step 4 – Kill them with Katanas

Yep, it was definitely a better plan.

After finally gaining the strength to stand, Six started to steadily make his way over to the bathroom attached to his sleeping quarters. He felt at least double what he knew himself to weigh, and he found himself utterly incapable of squaring his shoulders, instead walking with a distinctive hunch as he managed to stumble to the bathroom. As he walked past the chair tucked in the corner of his room, he couldn't help but notice his jacket hanging neatly over it, with his glasses perched just as precisely on top of the green garment. Well, at least he had had enough clarity to do that last night, although he could see from here his suit was clearly wrinkled.

Six also noticed, as he moved another step/stumble towards his bathroom that he didn't need to worry about locating his Katanas anymore. Because he had found them – they were right in front of him, sticking out of his bedroom wall.

He was going to kill someone before the day was out.

Ignoring the Katanas for the time being, Six decided that a shower was definitely a higher priority at the moment. He moved into the bathroom after much struggle, turned on the shower, and waited for the water to reach his favourite scolding temperature.

After a comforting 20 minute shower, Six finally emerged feeling thoroughly refreshed and infinitely more alive than before. He grabbed a towel off the rack and moved with much greater ease towards the mirror. Using his palm, he wiped away the steam that had blanketed the glass in order to shave.

Six let out a startled cry and almost fell back onto the toilet behind him as his eyes tried to register just what the hell he was looking at. His eyes had dark circles under them, his lips were red and bruised, there were scratch marks on his shoulder blades, and his neck was covered in red-ish purplely patches. No, patches of his entire upper body were marked with the little bruises.

Holy shit. Six was _covered_ in hickies.

Dead.

Someone was going to be dead in the next twenty seconds.

Running from the bathroom, he pulled one of the katanas from his wall roughly, sliding towards his door which opened automatically. He had taken five lunges down the hallway when Six considered his situation. He was running down a hallway, katana swinging wildly, his sunglasses noticeably absent, hair wet, wearing only a towel, with his chest and neck smothered in hickies on display for all to see.

He probably wasn't approaching this situation in the best possible way.

Moving back to his room as quickly as he'd left it, Six decided that clothes was probably where he should start. He dressed quickly in his mandatory green suit, shielded his eyes with his obligatory glasses, and made sure his collar was done up to the very top as always. Though Six believed he was _covered_, he had to concede that upon counting the treacherous little bruises, he only had four. But that was four more than he had had yesterday and it was four more than he had ever planned on having. And it was definitely four more than he planned on letting the rest of Providence see. After assessing his appearance from every angle possible in the bathroom mirror, he decided that the evidence was sufficiently covered and that it was safe to get down to business. And that business was killing someone.

Retrieving his other katana from the wall, Six marched out of his bedroom, locking it as he went, and headed for the first place anyone in Providence would go when investigating meddlesome troublemaking – he went to find Rex.

First he checked the teenager's room. Upon knocking and getting no response, he sliced through the door. Rex wasn't inside. Pity.

He then moved onto the Training Room, just to see if he was testing out his new machines or something. No sign of Rex, but he did get to slice through a box that was in his way. The fact that he could have easily walked around it or even over it was of no importance – Six wanted to slice shit, so shit was going to get sliced.

After looking around the Kitchen with no success, Six thought that he might as well pay Holiday a visit – maybe she knew where the boy had got to. Something in his stomach seemed to fall several feet, but he was fairly sure it was just something to do with the fact that he had had enough alcohol to make him forget all of last night. It was certainly not because he thought of Holiday. Not at all. That definitely was not the case.

Where was something he could kill when he needed it?

Six made his way to Holiday's office almost entirely without noticing – his body just seemed programmed to go that way. When he entered Holiday's lab, he could hear her talking in a stern and angry tone that suggested she was not impressed. It confused him – the only person he had known her to take that tone with was him. And he obviously wasn't talking to her yet. So who had pissed her off enough for her to use her 'Agent Six' voice, as Rex had named it?

Speak of the obnoxious amnesiac Evo kid and up he pops.

Low and behold, the one other person who was deemed bad enough to receive Holiday's 'Agent Six' voice was Rex. She stood over him, hands on her hips and face stern, as he reclined in a chair, hands behind his back, and looking as if he didn't have a care in the world. Six felt his hands twitch on his katana handles.

_You're his protector. You're his protector. You're his protector._

"Agent Six!" Rex's face lit up in pure amusement when he saw Six approach. Six couldn't help but notice how Holiday suddenly tensed up. She was probably just angry that he had invaded her lab without asking or interrupted her rant at Rex. Too bad – Six had bigger issues than the Doctor, he was sure of it.

"Say Six," Rex continued with a cheeky smile as he looked between Holiday and Six, "You look awful! What's the matter – up all night?"

_The boy is going to die._

_No! You're his protector. You're his protector. You're his protector…_

Holiday cringed again and almost broke the pen she held tightly in her right hand. Six's hands twitched on the Katanas as he glared at Rex through his glasses.

"Rex," he ground out, "We need to talk."

"Just a minute Six," he replied cheekily, taking another look at Holiday, "Me and Holiday were actually in the middle of a discussion just now...Hey Six, have you even said hello to the Doctor yet? How rude."

_You're. His. Pro. Tect. Or. _

_You. Must. Not. Kill. Him._

"Doctor," he murmured quietly, still focused solely on Rex. He heard Holiday swallow and take a deep breath before replying.

"Agent Six," she said softly, she too still focused on Rex.

"Outside Rex," Six said, taking a firmer grip of his katanas, "Now."

"But me and the Doc hadn't finished!" he said, taking a sip from some sugary drink that he really shouldn't be drinking at this hour, "By the way Doc, what's with the sudden fascination with scarves? You have a beautiful neck – there's no need to hide it away!"

For the first time since entering the office, Six chanced a look at Holiday only to see her face blush violently as she stayed watching Rex. Why was Holiday wearing a scarf? It wasn't cold – despite it being winter, it was a balmy 83 degrees outside (that's what happens when one lives in a desert), and the regulatory systems ensured it was always a pleasant 73.4 degrees inside Providence. And Holiday had never worn a scarf before. So why was she wearing a scarf now? And why would a comment about the scarf cause Holiday to blush?

He dismissed it – he had more important things to worry about than Holiday's sudden change in fashion sense.

"Rex!" Six growled, raising his voice for the first time today and instantly regretting it when his head started ringing, "Outside."

"But me and the Doc…"

"Now!"

Rex said nothing more – he jumped out of his seat and walked over to the door, Six following behind him. Six turned his head slightly towards where Holiday stood.

"I'll give him back if he's still in one piece," he said stoically. Holiday gave one sharp nod, still not facing him, as he left her lab. Six grabbed Rex by the elbow and led him to nowhere in particular.

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><p>The second Six found managed to drag Rex to a corridor unoccupied by anyone else (and conveniently lacking in excessive surveillance) he didn't hesitate in thrusting his charge into the wall non-too lightly. Rex protested momentarily, but was silenced at the sight of Six's face – who'd have known that he was actually able to convey emotion? Because it was obvious just from standing within a five foot radius of the man that he was angry. He was practically <em>radiating<em> fury.

"Talk," Six commanded through gritted teeth.

"I didn't do it!" Rex defended, his hands raised in defeat as Six leered over him.

"Rex," he said, still through gritted teeth, his voice lower and more menacing than usual, "I've known you since you were ten – I know when you're lying."

Rex shifted uncomfortably and glanced at Six's hand that he saw was clenched around the handle of his katana. Rex was smart enough to know that he had to choose his next few words very carefully. He ran a nervous hand through his hair in an attempt to relieve some tension and perhaps become a little less scared.

"Well I didn't do it to start with…" he trailed off when he saw Six's jaw clench even tighter.

"What?" the man growled. It couldn't even be classed as speech anymore. Rex audibly swallowed as Six leered closer.

"I may have slipped a little something in your drink," he winced and covered his head with his hands before adding borderline hysterically, "but it was only after Callan had already loosened you up!"

Six turned in the direction of the communal areas of the base and drew his Katana fully before growling again.

"Callan."

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><p>Callan grasped at his collar in a futile attempt to open his airways. Six had him pinned to the wall with one arm, his other holding a katana pointed directly at Callan's face. This was not how Callan had planned on going – cut down by a hung-over ninja while in a towel in the communal bathroom. Not exactly a hero's exit. He tried to talk down the psychotic agent threatening him.<p>

"Hey look, Six, I didn't mean to get you drunk," he choked out, only to have Six force his arm against his throat tighter.

"But you did," he was back to growling – Six was simply too pissed to talk properly.

"But I didn't mean it!" Callan defended, his foot kicking against the wall he was pinned to feebly, "I only meant to give you a little, just to loosen up that stick that you seem to have stuck up your –"

With lightening speed, Six had slid his katana to Callan's throat, the blade taunting the muscles in the man's neck to expand just _that_ much more…

"Please finish that sentence," Six felt his mouth twitch in what others might think was a somewhat maniacal manner, "I'd like another good reason to kill you."

Six watched as Callan's breath hitched and absently wondered what would be the most efficient way to dispose of Callan's body without raising too many eyebrows. The man against the wall choked out a reply.

"Six, seriously, I didn't mean to do it," Six thought the fact that Callan sounding strangely similar to Rex with his excuses said a lot about the man's character, "You weren't meant to drink that much. I only wanted to give you and Holiday a little bit but then Rex came along and –"

"Wait!" Six knew his attempt to keep the urgency out of his voice had failed, "You spiked Dr. Holiday's drink too?"

"Only a little, so she'd stop worrying about thinking and just have a little fun."

Six forced the katana closer to Callan's throat as he began to plan his speech to White Knight about why, exactly, he had felt the need to scatter small, bleeding, packages across the desert.

"So she'd have fun with _you_?" he growled again, very barely stopping himself from snarling.

"Well, maybe…" the katana inched closer, "No! Not like that! I just wanted her to dance and loosen up a little! I wanted her to stop thinking about you and your inability to enjoy yourself, so she could relax! Fat lot of good it did me – getting her tipsy only seemed to increase her fascination with you."

Well…this was especially surprising.

"What?"

"Her fascination with you! It's even more obvious once she's had a few," Callan looked particularly bitter as he recounted the previous night's events, "I don't think she left your side most of the night. I gave up trying to drag her away from you at about 11 and that's the last I saw of either of you."

Holiday had been drunk. Six had been drunk. He was covered in hickies. She was suddenly wearing a scarf. She blushed when he entered her lab.

It was that moment that Six was able to identify the smell in his room this morning_. _It was Holiday – his room smelt of Holiday.

Oh holy mother of God.

This was not good.

Deciding he wanted to finish getting answers before slicing Callan's head off, Six released him and stormed off towards Holiday's lab.

"I _will_ be back for you Captain!" he called over his shoulder. Callan visibly gulped and began organizing for the fastest mode of transportation that could get him as far away from Providence head quarters and that angry ninja as soon as possible.

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><p>Six had walked quickly down many passageways and had broken into an all out run down others. He reached Holiday's office and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. It didn't work. He flicked his katanas back up his sleeves and entered her lab. He found her leaning over a microscope, though it looked like she was just doing that to look busy. Especially seeing as her forehead was resting against the eyepieces, thus making it impossible for her to actually be using devise at all. Six could hear her muttering to herself softly.<p>

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!"

"Dr. Holiday?"

She stood so fast Six was sure she was going to topple over backwards from the sheer force of it. Holiday looked at him sideways, worry and embarrassment framing her face.

"Agent Six," her eyes quickly shot down again as she turned towards the computer. They stood in silence as Holiday pretended to be busy looking through files. She wasn't fooling anyone. Least of all Six.

"We need to discuss something," Six said as stoically as ever. Holiday started to shuffle through files quicker.

"Do we?" she said off-handedly, moving around past Six towards a filing cabinet. As she went to move past him, Six took hold of her wrist to stop her.

"Yes."

He waited for her to answer, but she just kept staring at his hand on her wrist. Six realized that not only was such an action not a common interaction between them, but it was also highly inappropriate. He retracted his hand instantly and waited for her eyes to meet his. After several long moments she looked up at him and he instantly wished she hadn't – she had those damn 'puppy dog' eyes on again and he hated it. Not quite enough to leave her alone and abandon his quest for answers, but he still hated it. He raised an eyebrow to shoot down her puppy dog eyes and it seemed to work.

Six 1, Holiday 0. For today anyway.

Holiday sighed in defeat and looked over at her desk. She walked to her station and sat down somewhat heavily as she avoided his gaze.

"So," she started, still not looking at him, "What did you want to talk to me about."

He contemplated telling her that ignorance didn't become her, but then that would suggest that he found other things about her becoming, and he simply couldn't have her (or himself) thinking that. So instead he got straight to the point.

"Last night," she stiffened visibly but said nothing, "Do you remember what happened?"

"Do you?" she looked at him with a look that he thought to be desperation and fear. He wandered what Holiday would have to be afraid of? Maybe she was scared that he was angry at her? He didn't like to assume – always have the facts – but he had a sneaking suspicion that the woman sitting at her desk in front of him was responsible for the _bruises_ adorning his neck. And possibly she thought that he was going to be angry with her.

Was he?

He wasn't too sure. He didn't think he was. He was angry with Rex, but that would pass. He was _definitely _angry with Callan, that might take longer to subside. He thought that perhaps Callan could make it up to him by being his new sparring partner. A spontaneous sparring partner. Someone to practice sneaking up on. So Callan wouldn't be aware of him sneaking up on him. Six would just spontaneously attack him then disappear again. Yes, that way thought he might be able to get over his anger quicker.

But was he angry with Holiday?

He'd have to think about that later. Right now he needed to answer her question.

"No," he said as stoically as possible, "Not much."

Holiday looked a little relieved and nodded absently. She shrugged and looked at her desk again.

"I don't remember that much either…" she trailed off and consciously avoided his eyesight once more. He knew she was hiding something from him. Six walked over to stand directly in front of her, his shadow falling on her ominously. Holiday looked up to face him once more.

"What _do _you remember, Doctor?" he didn't like being so cold and slightly hostile with Holiday (for reasons he wouldn't allow himself to think about) but he needed answers _now_. And he wasn't going to get anywhere with her dancing around the truth and withholding information from him.

She visibly hesitated and adjusted the bun on her head roughly before finally answering.

"There's nothing in particular," she shrugged dismissively again, "All I really remember is fragments."

She looked up to see Six raise another eye brow and cross his arms – silently bidding her to continue. She concentrated hard on nothing in particular in the distance as she recalled the previous night's activities.

"I remember that we were chatting at the New Years Party," she began, still concentrating hard, "And I got us some drinks and we kept chatting, and you got us some drinks and then….everything gets a little hazy…"

She looked up at him in hopes of him allowing her to stop there but with one look at his raised eyebrow she knew she had no such luck.

"Well I don't remember leaving the party," she continued, thinking hard to remember details through the haze, "But I remember that we were walking down the corridor and we kept falling into the walls, which I thought was hilarious."

She smiled softly before her face descended into a frown once more.

"I remember coming back here," Six scanning the room immediately, looking for clues of what happened, "But all I found was this."

Holiday held up a discarded party hat that looked like it had seen _much_ better days. Six didn't have a long history of party hats, but he could recognize that they weren't supposed to look like that – it appeared that the cardboard object had been sat on at least three times to become as crumpled and sad as it was now.

"Then I remember running away from you giggling, and I think I stole your glasses at one point…"

Six knew his glasses felt different. They'd been contaminated with Holiday. He'd have to get a new pair – knowing that Holiday had been wearing these would cause him to think about how she would look in them (seeing as he couldn't remember) and that was all together too distracting. Yep, new glasses it was.

"And that's all I remember of last night," she finished, placing the sad little injured party hat on the desk beside her. Six nodded as he processed the information. That was nothing damnable. But it also didn't explain why he was covered in hickies, why she was wearing a scarf, or why his room smelt of her. She _had_ to have been in his room at some point during the night. And he _had_ to know what had happened. Six was a man of obedience, and had a great amount of self control. But it had been so long since he had consumed any alcohol that he couldn't guarantee that he wouldn't do something completely out of character and _wrong_ when he was inebriated. He would undoubtedly hate himself for asking for any further information, but he needed answers.

"Why are you wearing the scarf, Doctor?"

Holiday froze again and cringed, she had really hoped he wouldn't ask. Too embarrassed to force out the words herself, she undid the tightly knotted material and turned to show Six the side of her neck.

There, sitting proudly upon her neck, was a very similar bruise to the ones that adorned Six's neck and upper body.

Oh Hell.

Maybe they'd been attacked by the same disease or evo. Yeah, maybe that was it. And this _thing_ that they had contracted or been attacked by just so happened to leave bruises that were strangely similar to hickies. Maybe that was it.

Even in his severely achy state, Six couldn't force himself to believe that. He let out a heavy sigh and looked to the floor.

"Do you remember getting that?" he asked as stoically as possible when he was so close to stabbing himself in the leg.

"No," she said softly and hesitated once more before whispering, "But I did wake up in your room this morning wearing your jacket and sunglasses."

"On the floor?" Six questioned somewhat hopefully.

"In your bed," Holiday clarified with a blush and slight cringe. Six also blushed despite all his efforts to stop it. This was without a doubt that most uncomfortable he had ever been in his entire life. He could only manage to choke out one syllable.

"Oh."

Holiday nodded solemnly and bit her lip gently.

"Yes," she, also, was only able to manage one single syllable.

Six was angry. But he wasn't angry at Holiday – he was angry at himself. He could curse Callan all he liked, and he could blame Rex from dusk till dawn, but he knew it wasn't _really_ either of their fault. Well it was, but he wasn't powerless to stop it. He was a freaking ninja for crying out loud – he would have been able to tell that his drink had been spiked just by a quick smell. The second he had had one sip of the stuff he would have known that it wasn't right and that he should stop.

But he didn't.

He had allowed himself to get drunk and do something totally stupid and irresponsible and _embarrassing_. He was to blame and no one else. Well, maybe Holiday was slightly to blame for him wanting to get drunk in the first place. And he knew well and good it wasn't to distract from boring conversation. A phrase flew into his mind briefly – 'liquid courage'. Well in Six's case it seemed to be more appropriate to call it 'Liquid Stupidity' – being drunk had given him the excuse he had been looking for to treat Holiday as something more than simply his partner and colleague. He had seen an out and, after a very tiring year, he had taken it. It was stupid and immature and he really _shouldn't _have done it, but he did. And now he was dealing with the consequences that he must have known he would incur. (He had known, but he had thought the idea of being with Holiday just like he wanted – freely – would be worth anything that he was dealt the next morning.) And now here they were, utterly exposed and uncomfortable and embarrassed. He needed a way to cover this up – to pretend it never happened.

"This evidence is purely circumstantial," he said finally, very consciously not looking at Holiday, who was just as actively avoiding letting any form of his anatomy come into her line of sight.

"Yes, yes…circumstantial," she confirmed with gusto.

"There is no real evidence to confirm any events that may or may not have happened between…us," he said again, feeling the faintest of flushes make its way to his cheeks.

"No, no real evidence at all."

"Well," he nodded approvingly and rolled his shoulders, "Seeing as there is a high chance nothing ever happened, I don't think we need to talk about it ever again."

"No," Holiday's voice was soft and almost lost to human ears, "Never again."

"Good," Six said, finding a slight bout of nausea coming over him again for reasons he tried to convince himself were purely related to alcohol.

"Good," Holiday concurred, nodded soundly and trying her best to smile at him.

"Good day Doctor," Six said as he turned and headed for the hallway.

"Good day Agent Six," Holiday called, turning around and facing her lab equipment with absolutely no will to do anything but sleep for a very long time.

Six left Holiday's office feeling reassured, if not slightly...uneasy. He needed to take his mind off these things that didn't happen between the Doctor and himself. And he had an excellent idea for a great way to quell his discomfort –

Spontaneous sparring with Captain Callan.

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><p><em>Happy New Year! :)<em>

_I'm considering adding to this__ if enough people are interested but am still currently undecided (possibly a chappy detailing Holiday's version of events, and then what really happened...) Anywho, please review :)_


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